


An Excuse To Hold Hands

by Bayyvon



Category: Titanic (1997)
Genre: College AU, M/M, almost sorta smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 08:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bayyvon/pseuds/Bayyvon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Timing is everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Excuse To Hold Hands

They were playing cards, and it was an idle event, very few talk, a few curses, the exchange of pennies and nickles. Fabri catches his attention by saying his name.

"Tommy?" He looks up at the Irishman above his cards.

"Yeah?" Tommy sets down his cards, paying attention to nothing else but what the tanner man had to say.

Instead of saying anything as he expected, Fabri dropped his cards, leaned forward and kissed him. Realizing that he'd done something stupid, he pulled back. "It-It-It-It was an accident, I didn't-.."

Tommy rolled his eyes at the stuttering Italian, grabbing him by the neck and kissing him again. "Then so was that."

Fabrizio kissed him again, a little longer this time. He tasted like cigarettes and stale whiskey. It wasn't all that bad, Tommy decided. He quite liked it, actually. Tommy's calloused hands were leaving trails of fire everywhere they wandered, and Fabrizio grunted into Tommy's mouth, and he chuckled.

"That blonde Norwegian lass leave ya high and dry, did she?"

Fabri nodded, feeling himself heat up under the watchful gaze of the Irishman. Embarrassment is a good look for the younger man, Tommy notes mentally.

"Then let's fix that, yeah?" The blond pushes their lips together again with a harsh, bruising force, sweeping their abandoned cards into the floor.

He felt the Italian's hand trail up his shirt, popping the buttons as he went. Tommy shrugs the tan article of clothing from his shoulders, revealing scars that no one but the man himself had seen in a long while. The tanner man's fingers danced across the pale canvas of skin at his disposal, pausing when he reaches a large scar just above his heart. Fabrizio's dark eyes flutter open, and he disconnected their lips for a second time. Tommy knew Fabri was staring, but it didn't seem to bother him as much as it would had it not been the gentle, curious dark haired man in his bed. Brown eyes and dark fingers held questions, while pale lips, and blue eyes held answers.

"Fight 'n a pub back 'n Belfast over a lost poker game."

His fingers trail lower, to the large scar that trails out from his belly button.

"Surgery when I was 16."

Fabri shifts, his fingers brushing lightly over a scar on Tommy's shoulder.

"Got shot when I was 12, protectin' my Ma."

Fabrizio's fingers brush lightly from where they had stopped at his shoulder, up his neck, to his cheek. Their eyes meet a moment, and Fabrizio grins sheepishly. Tommy's hands had been at the slighter man's hips for a good while, and he tugs him into his lap. Those same hands begin tugging at Fabri's button up and suspenders, tossing them into the floor with haste. Pale skin stands out harshly against the dark Italian skin, and briefly, Fabrizio wonders what it would look life if he were to raise blood under the surface of the pale expansion of leanness that Tommy called a neck, but before he can act on his thought, Tommy is latching onto his neck. He inhales sharply, his eyes fluttering helplessly, shallow breaths being panted into the Irishman's ear. Blunt nails drag up Tommy's back and he hums against Fabri's neck. He knows he'll have subtle red markings, and scratches covering his body by morning, but at the moment, all he's worried about is keeping Fabrizio making those light, airy noises in his ear.

"Hey, Tommy," Jack Dawson starts as he opens the door. "Have you seen Fabrizi-"

Blue eyes open, and flicker up, meeting Jack's own. He resists grinning, instead he opts to sink his teeth into the dark skin, bringing a quick sharp noise from Fabri, something along the lines of "I'm gonna punch you!"

"Ohhh-kay nevermind. Clearly you have. Carry on, then." And Jack ducks out. 

Tommy releases the skin between his teeth, a laugh carrying up his throat.

Fabrizio brings a hard slap onto Tommy's shoulder, and he laughs harder.

"Ow! What?" Tommy is giggling, and he can't stop it, nor can he help it.

"What was that? I'm bleeding!" Fabrizio is glaring ice and daggers at the blond.

"'M sorry." Tommy's fingers are playing along the lower end of the dark haired man's back.

"My turn." Fabri presses light kisses across Tommy's stubbled jaw, making his way down his neck.

Tommy's weak spot was his neck. Always had been. He wasn't all that sure why, but he really didn't care to know. And the way Fabrizio was going to town with light kisses and small love bites was driving him crazy. "Shite." He was definitely going to be covered in evidence by the time the sun rose.

Fabri finds a particular spot on Tommy's neck that makes him groan exceptionally loudly and his hands crudely rolls their hips together to get some kind of friction.

"Jesus Christ, Fabri! Trynna stop it 'fore it starts?"

The darker man laughs, his breath hot against the Irishman's neck, which, he notes, is covered in love marks of varying darkness and sizes. Evidence indeed.

Tommy's not a patient one, never has been. That's his Ma coming out in him, and he knows it but so help him God if he doesn't get Fabrizio where he wants hims soon-

His thoughts are interrupted by Fabri crushing their lips together, and by the suddenness of the obnoxious fire alarm.

“You’re shitting me.” Fabrizio groans, rolling off of Tommy.

“Best timing ever.” Tommy nods in agreement as he stands, grabbing the shorter mans hand as he opens his door.

Fabri looks at him strangely as they file into the hall with the others.

“Not losin’ you in a sea’a idiots.” Tommy grins.

“Just an excuse to hold my hand.” The Italian grins back.

“Maybe.” Tommy chuckles.


End file.
